


Chance Encounters

by manic_intent



Series: Human Nature [3]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, John is a retired Marine, M/M, That AU where John buys Santino a drink in a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 04:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: The stranger at the bar was the most beautiful person John had ever seen. Lush curly hair, soft cheeks, wide dark eyes, graceful legs and narrow hips. He looked young, in his late twenties or thirties. Wealthy, with his expensive-looking watch and a charcoal grey suit that fit him like another skin. He also didn’t look like he was at the bar with anyone, drinking a glass of wine while checking his phone.





	Chance Encounters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atanih88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/gifts).



> For Atanih88, who asked for John/Santino: stamina. 
> 
> I don’t often write addons to ‘verses because they’re usually left where I like them, but for Human Nature I’ve had an idea for a prequel percolating for a while so here it is. You don’t need to have read Parts 1 and 2 of this ‘verse to understand this story.

The stranger at the bar was the most beautiful person John had ever seen. Lush curly hair, soft cheeks, wide dark eyes, graceful legs and narrow hips. He looked young, in his late twenties or thirties. Wealthy, with his expensive-looking watch and a charcoal grey suit that fit him like another skin. He also didn’t look like he was at the bar with anyone, drinking a glass of wine while checking his phone.

Had to be a movie star. This was New York, after all. John wished he knew which movies. Was taking a pic from where John sat going to be creepy? John hunched over his beer, staring at the foam and covertly admiring the probable celebrity with his peripheral vision. The gorgeous man was finishing his wine, glancing at the door. He was probably about to leave. On sheer impulse, John motioned one of the staff over. “I’d like to buy someone a drink,” he said.

She smiled. “Sure. Who?” 

“Guy over there at the counter. Another glass of whatever he was having.” John hesitated. “If that’s possible. It’s OK if it isn’t.” 

“He’s cute,” she said approvingly and wandered off before John could ask her to do it anonymously. John settled for trying to look inconspicuous, draining his beer. He startled as someone sat down at his table. 

“Buonasera,” said the gorgeous young man, and smirked when John choked on his beer. “Thank you for the drink.” He tipped his new glass against John’s beer. 

John cleared his throat. “Not a problem.” 

“Do I know you?” 

“No? No. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?” The young man looked amused. “What’s your name, stranger?”

“John. John Wick.” 

“Who are you, John?” 

John blinked. That was a weirdly personal question. But he supposed he’d started it by buying the man a drink. Did people still buy other people drinks at bars nowadays, or was that considered rude? Conscious that he likely lacked an understanding of the latest social etiquette, John said, “I was a Marine. Retired now.”

“How long have you been retired?” 

“Years.” John didn’t keep track. Civilians did tend to be curious about military service though, and their curiosity was something John was familiar with. “Did a few tours in Afghanistan before that. Got out after that with a pension.” 

“Good with a gun, are we?” the young man asked. 

Why did civilians always ask this kind of thing? John glanced away. “Good enough.” It wasn’t something he was proud of. 

This got him a long, considering look as the young man sipped his wine. “You look like you’re getting on in years, but I suppose we’re still quite new to the area and could use some help. A veteran could be useful.” 

“Sorry, what?” John asked. 

“Aren’t you looking for a sponsor?”

“No?” John said, mystified now. “A sponsor for what?” 

“All right,” the young man said, confused, “if you weren’t looking for a sponsor, why did you buy me a drink?” 

“People don’t buy you drinks?” John asked blankly. The bar was quiet and everyone tended to mind their own business, which was why John liked coming by. He’d never paid much attention to any of the other clientele in it until now, but surely someone who looked as good as the stranger was hit on all the time. 

The young man studied him curiously. “You don’t know who I am?” he asked at last, sounding surprised. 

“No. But you’re probably from the movies, right? I mean, you’re _in_ the movies. A movie star.” John swallowed the rest of his words by taking a gulp of his beer. This was the problem with spending most of his life cruising quietly on auto. He forgot how to talk to people when it mattered. 

That made the young man laugh. “Why do you think so?” 

“Well. It’s New York. And.” John gestured helplessly at the young man, which only made his eyebrows rise. “You’re the most good-looking person I’ve ever seen.” 

“Hmm.” The young man smiled warmly at him. God, he was gorgeous. “Sadly, I’m not an actor. I’m a businessman. My name is Santino D’Antonio.” He watched John’s face carefully. 

It didn’t ring a bell. “Ah. My bad.” 

“Not at all. It’s very flattering. I apologise for the misunderstanding. My company’s been hiring, and sometimes people approach me off the street.” 

That made sense. “No foul.” 

“How long were you in the Marines?” Santino asked, and it was strangely easy to talk to him, to dredge his memory for things John had long wished forgotten. Santino bought the next round. They talked until the bar was starting to close. At the call for final orders, John startled. He hadn’t realized it’d been that long. 

“We can move somewhere else,” Santino offered. 

“Not a lot of places open at this time,” John said, regretfully checking the time on his phone. “Maybe. How about I give you my number, and, if you ever want to, if you’re free, just give me a call? I’m usually around.” Did that sound desperate? John hoped not. It wasn’t like he was looking for anything. Santino was way out of his league and they probably both knew it. 

Santino chuckled. “I didn’t mean another bar, John.” He reached over the table, stroking his fingertips lightly over John’s knuckles. “Come home with me.” 

John stared at him. “Really?” 

“Aww. You’re sweet.” Santino said, amused. He dragged John out onto the street, where a black Maserati sedan idled at the sidewalk. Standing beside it was a blonde woman, slim and petite, with sharp, calculating eyes. A bodyguard. She gestured at Santino who replied in turn, tugging John toward the car. 

John signed -Hello- at the bodyguard. Santino looked a little surprised, even as the woman smiled and replied in turn. “You know ASL?” Santino asked. 

“Not very much of it. I’m out of practice. Guy in my unit was invalided out after an injury that also left him mute. We all learned sign language to catch up.” John glanced at the rearview mirror as they pulled into traffic. Other sedans were sliding into place, one in front of them and one behind. “You’ve got a lot of security.” 

“A sad necessity in my life.”

John wasn’t sure what to say to that, which Santino seemed to take as a cue to climb into his lap. Santino was a demanding kisser, hands crushed in John’s collar as he licked into John’s mouth. John froze. He wasn’t much used to intimacy, let alone intimacy with an audience. A quick glance over at the driver’s seat indicated the bodyguard was pointedly ignoring them. When Santino rubbed himself lazily against John’s crotch, John couldn’t help but gasp. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, resting them on Santino’s thighs. Santino dragged them down, shoving them over his ass. John tried to relax, kissing Santino back. They ground against each other. John crushed his groans between them. He barely noticed when they stopped and was dazed as they were hustled out of the carpark and into a lift. 

Hand clenched into the front of John’s shirt, Santino signalled around John before the lift closed. “‘No need’?” John asked, allowing himself to be shoved against the mirror in the lift. 

“Ares normally does a check of the apartment before I get in.” Santino nipped John’s jaw, kissing up to his ear. “But I think that’ll spoil the flow, wouldn’t it?” 

“Is there usually a problem?” John asked, long-dormant instincts waking reluctantly. 

“She’s paid to assume there might be. Don’t worry. My life isn’t that exciting,” Santino said. He smiled though, amused at some private joke. 

“Is it really safe for you to be taking a complete stranger home if you need this kinda security?” John asked without thinking.

Santino gave him an incredulous look. He started to laugh, a low, playful chuckle that shook deliciously against John. “Says the complete stranger,” Santino said. He poked John on the nose. “What should I do, eh? Have Ares watch? Are you into that kind of play?” 

“No,” John said quickly. 

“There you go. Besides, I don’t need security around me all the time. You didn’t see me surrounded by guards in that bar, did you?” 

“Guess not,” John said. The lift let out a gentle ping. John instinctively angled himself between Santino and the doors, which slid open into an elegant foyer hung with colourful art and appointed with graceful furniture. Distant floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over a light-dotted view of Central Park and the rest of New York. John tried not to gawk. He hadn’t really been in the right frame of mind to pay attention to where they’d been driving. “You really live here?” 

Santino laughed again, hooking his arm into John’s arm. “No, John. I just broke into this place and the owners will be back any minute. Yes, I live here. What’s so strange about that?”

“It’s huge,” John said, allowing Santino to pull him through the foyer/living room. There was a grand piano in a corner near the large leather couch, over which a marble horse loomed, rearing out of the wall itself. The effect was grandiose and yet faintly ridiculous. 

“I have rather more resources than a military pension,” Santino said. He paused briefly in the corridor, looking around. 

“Something wrong?” John hadn’t seen anything move, though the surreality of his lavish surroundings was sending his instincts out of whack. 

“Just trying to recall… ah, over there.” Santino tugged John over to a pair of heavy oak doors, which opened out into another vast room. A large bed occupied a raised space at the end of some sort of mini living room/study, which had its own balcony that looked out over the park. 

“You don’t remember where your own bedroom is? Sure you live here?” John asked, which got him a little scowl.

“I’ve had quite a few glasses of wine, John.” 

“You don’t seem drunk.” Was that why Santino had decided to bring him home? It would explain how random it was. 

“Does it matter?” Santino asked, starting to look annoyed. That was familiar ground. People had always felt like a separate species to John. Growing up, on through boot camp, even within the structured life in the Marines. Having to memorise social cues meant he often got them wrong, even now. Pissed off people he didn’t want to piss off. 

John tried honesty. Sometimes that worked. “Never done something like this before. Gone home with someone from a bar.” 

“You did buy me a drink.” 

“Kinda didn’t expect you to even want to talk to me. Let alone go somewhere with me. To this kinda place.” John gestured helplessly at the ludicrously large bedroom. “You really single?” 

Santino shot John a long and suspicious stare. “Don’t tell me. Are you a virgin?”

“No? What does that have to do with—”

“In the closet?”

“No.” He had been at the beginning, out of necessity, before Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had been repealed, but even then it’d been more or less an open secret. Nobody in his squad had cared, not when John was usually the reason why they survived one shitstorm after another. “Why?” 

Santino pouted. “ _Maledizione._ It’s not usually this hard to get someone to shut up and put up.” 

“Are you normally this much of an ass?” John asked before he could help himself. 

Santino stared at him, incredulous. Shit. “Other than my sister, no one has ever dared say something like that to my face,” he said slowly. 

Whoops. “Kinda…” John tried to find the words. “Disoriented. Sorry.” 

“By what?” 

Santino really needed to ask? “The security, the apartment… you.” 

“What about me?” Santino asked, wary now. 

“You’re young, hot, really rich,” John said. 

“Which part of that don’t you like?” 

“Isn’t that. Just. I’m not sure why _I’m_ here,” John admitted. 

“I see.” Santino’s good humour returned, oddly. “I’m not asking you to marry me, John.” He pulled John toward the bed, his grin growing inviting again. “Just to have a bit of fun. Don’t be so serious.” 

John shut up, in case he did any more damage. He kissed Santino as Santino pulled him down on the bed, both of them kicking off their shoes, shrugging off jackets. Santino wrapped his hand over John’s crotch and squeezed, smirking when John gasped. “I have a good feeling about this,” Santino said. 

“Okay,” John said since he didn’t know what else to say. Santino laughed as though he’d made a joke, pushing John onto his back. He pulled John’s shirt off and whistled in appreciation, tracing the old ink on John’s arms with his fingertips. 

“I’ve never fucked a Marine before,” Santino said, rubbing his thumbs over the hard planes of John’s stomach. 

“Retired Marine,” John said, unable to help the correction. 

Thankfully, this only earned him another amused look. “You’re a painfully honest man. How exciting.” 

“Really?” John tried to reach for Santino’s tie, but Santino shifted out of reach, straddling John’s thighs as he pulled off John’s belt. 

Coiling the loops teasingly around a palm, Santino brushed a kiss over the old leather. The look of his plush lips pressed against the belt made John’s cock twitch in anticipation, made him gasp. Santino smiled. “In my line of work, yes. Honest men are rare.” He tossed the belt aside, pulling down John’s pants and underwear. Another whistle. Santino spat in his palm and curled his fingers around John’s cock, stroking him teasingly. “Ah, now, this is nice.” 

What was John supposed to say to that? “Thanks?” 

Santino snickered. “There’s no need to be so nervous,” he said, mistaking John’s confusion for something else. Santino kissed him, lingering over John’s lips as he stroked his slicked palm over the swollen cap of John’s cock. John moaned, stroking the graceful arch of Santino’s back. “If you want to please me, John, you just need to listen to me. Can you do that?” 

“Yeah,” John said, a little relieved. Listening to orders he could do. It was easier than trying to guess.

“Soldiers,” Santino said. He kissed John again, another greedy, lingering kiss. 

John had never been a perfect soldier by any measure. He didn’t intentionally act out, he just didn’t often care enough to fall in line. A ‘lack-of-fucks’ problem, was what the COs called it. If John hadn’t been so good at what he did, if he hadn’t had good people in his squad keeping an eye on him, he’d probably have crashed out early with a dishonourable discharge, terminal at sergeant or worse. With Santino, John wanted to make the effort. 

As Santino followed green and blue ink down his arm and smirked up at him, John was disoriented all over again. He wasn’t sure whether he should put his fingers through Santino’s thick mop of hair, leaving them on the bed instead. Leaning up on his elbows, he watched Santino kiss down his belly to the coarse trail of hair leading to his cock. Santino glanced up and nipped John over his hip, hard enough that John hissed. “There. You’re not dreaming,” Santino said. He kissed the mark he had left, his lips curling. 

“Still thinking about that,” John said. Santino huffed. He kissed the tip of John’s cock and hesitated as John shifted. “Maybe I should do that for you,” John told him. 

“I’m not _that_ selfish,” Santino said, amused. “You can touch me, by the way. Don’t pull my hair. Oh, and try not to come yet, hm?” He loosened his tie, pulling it off and unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate care. Winking, he shifted up and took John slowly into his mouth. John sank into the bed with a groan, clutching at Santino’s shoulders. Santino smirked around him as he drank John down, closing his hand around what he could not take. John groaned, fingers wrenched into the sheets as he forced himself not to move. 

Santino hummed. When John twitched with a strangled gasp—it’d been too long—Santino pulled off with a wet pop and a laugh. “You can move if you want,” he said, playfully fondling John’s balls in his warm, soft palm. “You’ve already said two annoying things to me so far and I haven’t kicked you out. You’re not going to piss me off by getting rough.” 

“Not sure about that,” John said, though he obligingly rocked cautiously into Santino’s mouth when Santino took him back in. Santino between his legs, his plush mouth stretched around him, his hair brushing John’s belly—it was the most erotic thing John had ever seen. Gods, and his _mouth_. John moaned with each thrust he was allowed to make, his heels digging into the bed, trying to hold on. He sank his teeth into his wrist, focusing on the pain. Looking away didn’t even help, not when Santino did something with his tongue that made John buck and yell. 

“Sorry,” John gasped. Santino huffed and did it again, slower, Christ. John arched and scratched his nails up the bed. Somehow he held on, barely. Santino laughed, his breath warm against John’s belly. He kissed the marks John had left against his own wrist, then bent for John’s mouth as he undid his own belt and stripped down.

“Don’t come before me,” Santino warned, pressing his cock against John’s. He purred as John nodded, rocking against John, teasingly slow. Draping himself against John, rasped his teeth against John’s ear and chuckled as John gasped. “That’s good,” Santino said, as John tentatively curled his fingers around them both and squeezed. It felt clumsy, but Santino moaned and thrust into the pressure, his fingers curling over John’s cheek, his throat. John braced himself and moved, trying to concentrate on Santino’s pleasure over his own. He slowed his breathing down, sucked kisses over Santino’s throat.

Santino nipped him, his dark eyes alive with mischief, perfectly aware. “Don’t think I’ll be done with you after this,” he whispered into John’s ear between his gasps. “You’re going to have to please me all night. Can you do that, John?” He moaned John’s name like a curse, a prayer. John kissed him, squeezing tight. Somehow he hung on, even as Santino yowled and bit down on his shoulder and jerked, painting John’s belly with his seed. 

“Go on,” Santino said after, as John shivered against him with a groan. “But you’d better be able to get it up again.” 

“You—” John’s words snapped into a groan as Santino scratched his nails down John’s inner thighs, kissing him hard on the mouth. Release burned the air out of his lungs, left him gasping Santino’s name against the pillow. 

Santino kissed his temple. “Feel free to join me in the shower,” he said. He got off the bed as John tried to catch his breath. 

The bathroom was also ridiculous, a marble monster of a thing that was as big as John’s place. Santino scowled at him as John told him this under the spray, pushing him against the tiles to kiss him. “Yes, John. Some people are rich, like me, and some people are not, like most of the rest of you. Rich people live like this. Surely it’s not a stretch of the imagination,” he said and kissed John again as John tried to comment. “Now how about we get properly cleaned up, and you show me whether all the stories I’ve heard about a soldier’s stamina are true?” Santino pointedly palmed John’s cock. “Try not to disappoint me.” 

“Starting to see why you’re single,” John said, though he obligingly went down on his knees when Santino rolled his eyes and pulled at John’s shoulder.

#

Santino startled awake as his phone vibrated against his leg, swore, and made a face as sitting up made his body ache. It wasn’t entirely pleasant. The culprit curled against him flinched and woke up, blinking at him against the sun. What was his name again? John Rick? Handsome, at least, even in the morning. Santino fished his phone out from his jacket, checked the caller ID, and answered in Neapolitan. “How was the meeting?”

“No ‘good morning, sister’?” Gianna hissed. “No ‘I’m sorry for not answering any of your calls last night’? What the fuck were you up to?” 

Santino glanced at John, who didn’t look like he understood. “I met a new playmate. You know how that goes.” 

“Fuck you and the needs of your tiny penis,” Gianna snarled. Santino grimaced. “If the Florentino family is making a move in New York we need to fucking know. So get on it!” 

“I know what I’m doing, sister. Don’t worry so much, or you’ll grow grey before your time. Enjoy your weekend,” Santino said. He hung up as Gianna started to swear at him and yawned, tossing the phone off the bed. 

“You okay?” John asked, concerned. 

“Older sister. We run the family business together. She has a bad temper.” Santino yawned again. How long had they been up last night? This was promising. He kissed John’s bared shoulder. “Up to very much today?” He patted John’s ass over the sheets. 

“No, but. I can’t stay.” John looked apologetic. “I’ve got a dog and I live alone. She needs a walk in the morning or she gets antsy and starts destroying stuff.” 

Normal people and their tedious problems. “I can send someone to fetch her.” 

“Won’t work. She’s a retired K-9. Military dog. If you’re free later maybe—”

“Lunch,” Santino decided. He had business in the late afternoon and evening, but lunch he could do. “I’ll text you the location. Bring the dog.” 

John kissed him nervously at the door before he left, which was funny, and sent him an awkward text afterwards with a photo of the dog when Santino was having breakfast. Cute dog. Santino glanced up at Ares, who smiled but made no comment. Santino turned back to the iPad that she had brought along with his breakfast, on which had been loaded a complete record of John’s military file. 

“Interesting man,” Santino said, flicking through the file and into the rest of the background check. After retirement, John now lived quietly in a flat owned by an ex-Marine, who rented out flats to other veterans for cheap. Apparently, John restored books now and then, but he mainly lived off his pension. 

-Your sister isn’t going to approve,- Ares signed. 

“Thankfully, she doesn’t run my life, as much as she tries.” Santino pushed the iPad aside and cut another corner off his pastry. “Does Cosme do lunch?” 

Ares inclined her head. -Table for two?-

“For midday. Tell Olvera to be there, there’s no point going if he isn’t in the kitchen. There’ll be a dog. After that, find Giovanni Florentino and break half of his fingers.” 

-Only half?- Ares smiled. 

“We’ll need the rest if we want him to commit Mattia to the rendezvous.” Santino pulled his phone back over to send John a text and stifled another yawn as his fingers hovered over the lock screen. “Actually, handle the rest of my schedule for the day,” Santino said as he gave John a call. Maybe Gianna’s business could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> about my writing etc: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> 


End file.
